


Kickstand

by evaunit0



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (weed boys), Drugs, Flirting, M/M, Model Keith (Voltron), Model Shiro (Voltron), Semi-Public Sex, thinly veiled excuse to have shiro & keith fuck on a motorcycle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 03:39:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13825680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evaunit0/pseuds/evaunit0
Summary: A recent relocation to L.A. puts Shiro in need of a modeling job - the only problem is, he may like his coworker more than the gig.





	Kickstand

**Author's Note:**

> this is in no way tied to shiro's birthday i just KNOW these two own motorcycles and do stupid shit on them

Shiro hated big cities – skyscrapers and smoke were two aversions he gained from four years at his and Matt’s college in New York – so moving to SoCal after graduation wasn’t such a bad idea, especially ranked among the other ideas Matt had.

After all, Shiro was already scouting out local places he could start practicing his bike stunting again – it had been about a year, and this was the perfect excuse to get back into it.

Matt had caught him looking up locations on his laptop, peering over the couch. “Excited, are we?”

Shiro snorted, half-embarrassed. “Moving back home to your family is by far one of your best plans.”

Matt’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, man. I’m not moving back home. We’re gonna be roommates, and my family just happens to be fifteen minutes away. Without traffic,” he added.

One of Matt’s lesser ideas that actually played out in the long run included signing Shiro up for a one-time modeling job while in NYC, just for some student-run organization that needed a volunteer. They had passed on Shiro’s photos to some family friend in the business, who in turn had asked Shiro to do a couple shoots for him, which, of course, came with a paycheck.

It beat working double library shifts, but only barely.

“Hey, that reminds me. My little sister works for this modeling agency,” Matt said, stealing a fry out of Shiro’s bag from beside him on the couch. “Editing, I mean. And she posted this ad for a new recruit – they’re doing a couples calendar.” He pulled up the post on his phone, holding it up for Shiro to look at.

It was a specialty company, who dealt with vehicle advertising.

This one was for their motorcycle division.

Shiro was skeptical. “This is a little too on the nose, don’t you think?”

Matt shrugged, faking a flinch when Shiro swatted away his grabbing arm from the bag. “I see it as a sign this move is the best of all possible courses.”

So Shiro emailed the company, and set up a video interview with Allura – the head of the project, and Coran, her assistant – the next day, in which both of them enthusiastically welcomed Shiro onto their team. He had emailed them his portfolio earlier that morning, and they had accepted him without further questioning. He got the sense it was more of a family-run operation, and made a note to thank Matt’s sister for working at a small business, as fate would fall.

Allura had even offered to pay for his plane ticket, and Shiro sheepishly replied he was already relocating, and had purchased a ticket earlier.

They only seemed more enthused by this.

 _Maybe you’ll be our new regular_ , they said, and Shiro replied with what he hoped was a convincing smile.

\-----

Their flight was scheduled several days before the actual shoot began, and Matt took the opportunity to introduce Shiro to his family, although he regretfully found Pidge had moved into a campus apartment.

Later that week, Shiro took Matt’s car to the address they had given him, surprised to find Coran waiting outside for him, flagging down his car with a wave.

“You’re early!” His voice was chipper, and Shiro smiled nervously at the hand clasped around his back.

Coran took personal charge of showing Shiro around – introducing Hunk, Lance, and Pidge, all of who were an integral part of the team. Allura waved hello to him, mouthing a _Good morning_ , before Shiro saw she was on the phone.

The warehouse itself had a faux industrial garnish to it; it was obviously refurbished and finished – but there were strategically exposed rafters, some beams looped with electrical wires. The windows filtered in pure sunlight, but they had painted rust on their panes.

Allura was behind him, suddenly, nose scrunched. “I don’t quite like the space. We’re renting it from a family friend – Lotor – but I hope we can move in the next couple months.” It seemed like there was nothing to hide from Shiro, regardless of his recent employment.

He was at least thankful he wasn’t being singled out as a newcomer.

“Here – I’ll show you the break room. You can stay there until we’re done setting everything up, if you want.”

The room itself was a small longue – both with a window facing inward and out. He guessed this was more intended to be an office space, but Allura had allotted the room for the entire team instead.

Shiro wondered if, in a past life, she was a diplomat.

About ten minutes later, Allura popped her head into the break room, smiling as Shiro sat up straighter.

“Keith should be here in a couple minutes – I had Hunk call to make sure he was awake.”

Shiro just nodded, tell himself not to fill in too much of Keith’s personality – especially just off of what he’d seen from previous shoots and recordings. Of course he had the pretty bad-boy aura, but that was expected from his job.

Still, he hadn’t expected the show of his arrival.

He could see the front parking lot from the room’s window – the entire spectacle of it, really, was somehow rodeo-studded – the revving engine, the plume of gravel dust, and Lance just rolled his eyes as if this were a daily occurrence.

Lance grabbed him the second his bike was parked, practically dragging him through the door. He had on a red leather jacket that looked like it had come from a costume shop’s donation bin.

They were gripping about something – probably the time, as he could faintly hear _Do I need to buy you a watch?_ before Keith shrugged him off, turning instead to face Allura, who had come to greet him.

Both of them slipped an easy arm around each other’s backs, while Allura whispered something into his ear as they approached the break room. Shiro jolted up, the door opening as he stood.

Allura smiled again, this time at Keith. His face had gone flat, but as Allura stepped further into the room, Keith followed, standing across the coffee table from Shiro.

He was even more studded up close – he had three piercings per inch of each ear, but nothing fucking up his face. Suddenly, Shiro was intensely grateful he had taken out his septum piercing for today.

“Shiro, this is Keith. Keith, Shiro.”

They shook hands over the table, Allura patting Keith once more on the back. “I’ll call you two when we’re finished – there’s still a lighting issue Lance and Hunk are sorting out.”

“As always,” Keith said, and Shiro noticed he was chewing gum.

They both sat down, Shiro pulling his phone out of his back pocket to have in case he was in need of a quick distraction.

Keith didn’t seem to have that preoccupation, instead choosing to poke at his nails for a second before staring at Shiro, then, pulling out a silver case and lightning a blunt.

The outside window was propped open, and Keith lazily reached behind himself to lower the room’s interior window’s blinds halfway. He was certain Keith had this down to a science, where they could see out, but no one could look in.

Shiro tried an angle.

“You smoke?”

Keith nodded, switching hands for holding the blunt to check his phone. “It’s for my shoulder, technically.”

Normally, he’d leave it, but Keith didn’t seem bothered. “What’d you do?”

“Rolled off a bike that was gonna crash,” Keith said, plainly laying it all out like a hand of cards for Shiro to analyze. “I was in a medical coma for a week.”

“That’s rough,” Shiro said, wincing inside. He wasn’t normally one to comfort others.

Keith brushed it off anyway, taking a quick drag. “It was fine.” He eyed over Shiro’s prosthetic for a moment before walking over to the counter, getting two styrofoam cups down from a cabinet. “You want some coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Coffee wasn’t a habit with Shiro, and it wasn’t a treat, either. Mostly he wanted a positive response to something Keith had asked – the entire conversation was entirely too neutral.

Keith filled the machine with a cup of water from the sink before pulling a box of flavors from the drawer.

“What do you like?”

“Nothing sweet.”

Keith picked two, closing the drawer with his thigh. “I’ll make yours first, then,” he turned around to look at Shiro as he closed the machine. “I use ‘Caramel Surprise.’”

Shiro snorted, pulling out his phone for a cursory check before pocketing it. It wasn’t so much of a nervous tick than it was a need to keep idle – after setting up the machine, Keith was leaning against the counter without moving, eyes on Shiro’s boots.

The silence was only masked by the few voices outside, and a brief eye contact that both of them dropped.

It was a minute before the machine gurgled, and Keith passed him his warming cup – still wearing his fingerless gloves. Keith glanced at him, then his hands, before speaking, as if he were returning Shiro’s gaze. It unnerved him more than hoped showed. “There’s creamer and sugar by the microwave.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He repeated the process while Shiro checked his phone again, scrolling through messages left by Matt hours ago – asking him what the place was like, and if he’d shown Allura his picture.

“Popular?”

Shiro shook his head before realizing it was probably a joke. “Uh, no. Just Pidge’s older brother – do you know Pidge?”

Keith looked over his shoulder as he scooped several spoonfuls of sugar into his cup. “Yeah. Pidge and I have movie nights, dude.”

“Oh,” Shiro took a drink as Keith settled beside him on the couch armrest. “The Holts are real nice.”

Keith looked down at him, almost as if he were deciding something, before coolly replying. “They’re a good family.”

They sat in amicable silence for a moment – Shiro hastily informing Matt that he was not going to set him up on a date while on the job – until Shiro felt Keith’s eyes on him, like a spotlight.

The glare was blinding.

“What?”

“Are you gay?”

Shiro sat down his coffee on the table, and felt Keith flinch, however discreet, beside him. “Do you think it’s safe to go around asking strangers that?”

A single thought passed Keith’s face before he shrugged. “Sorry I pried. You’re hot.”

That line skipped in Shiro’s head a minute, the quality of Keith’s voice distorting until he came back to his senses.

But Keith had already left the break room, sharply, his boots hitting the concrete with careless scuffs. Shiro watched him out of the room’s window – his lower back was exposed as he stretched his arms above his head, stalking towards the set.

So Keith was something.

Before he could walk onto the actual set, he watched Coran wave Keith over, gesticulating at his upper arm, and reaching out to help Keith rotate it slowly. A moment later, it seemed Coran had ordered Keith to pull his shirt off, while he rummaged in a nearby bin, and upon finding a tub of gel, began rubbing the clear salve into Keith’s skin.

Lance passed by, offering some joke, to which Coran guiltily smiled, and Keith huffed.

Shiro sat in the break room, sipping at his dull coffee, until Allura popped in to send him off to wardrobe fittings.

\-----

Keith was in the fitting room beside him, getting dressed by Hunk. Although there was a partial wall between them, their hushed voices did little to conceal their conversation in such close quarters.

“What do you think of the new guy?” Hunk asked.

There was a pause until he heard Keith sigh. “I don’t know, Hunk. Why?”

“He’s your type,” Hunk whispered.

Keith’s voice was strangely amused. “How do _you_ know he’s my type?”

“You actually made an effort to talk to him, instead of just glaring, like you want him gone. Like you usually do.”

They were both silent, and Shiro forced himself to focus on changing, properly layering the coordination instructions Allura had given him.

\-----

Keith, with Hunk’s assistance, had finished putting on his ensemble before Shiro. Now, Shiro nervously awaited their eventual confrontation while he waited for Allura to approve of his apparel. He barely heard her footsteps approach before she was pulling back the curtain on his dressing room, giving a firm nod and a thumbs-up before dashing off again.

Slowly, Shiro ventured back into the main area of the warehouse, the minimal crew buzzing as ever, until he caught his first glimpse of Keith, fully prepped.

He wasn’t really prepared for the sight in flesh, and he could feel Matt’s raucous voice resonating in his skull as he laughed at him for searching through Keith’s old catalogues, and watching his short-clipped interviews. The _teasing_.

_You like him._

Shiro let his eyes roam over Keith’s torso, shrouded with crimson red and gold seams that made the flat tone of his skin flash. The jacket cut was cropped, just like the one he had arrived in, but this one was embroidered with a snarling lion in fine, flashy thread.

He had gotten his hair quickly trimmed, too – it was still wet on the edges. Shiro watched him push it back impatiently, and Lance moved forward out of nowhere to gel it back.

It took a moment for Keith’s bored gaze to wander, until it settled on Shiro, across the room. As he walked over to them, he couldn’t help but adjust the ripped jean jacket they had given him – one that was fashioned in the pre-torn, pseudo-Cali fashion, hoping to hide more of his exposed chest underneath. Allura hadn’t included a shirt in the lineup.

As he approached, Keith _whistled_ at him.

Lance jumped, looking ready to bitch Keith out, before following his eye’s path towards Shiro, to which he nodded appreciatively.

Allura smacked Keith’s arm as she passed him, but he just winked, jerking his head at Shiro. “Good job finding him.” In the corner of the room, Hunk was back at looping cables, shaking his head.

Despite himself, Shiro smiled, trying to return the compliment as Keith continued to get touched up by Lance. “You look good.”

Keith flinched as Lance plucked an eyebrow, both of them sour-faced. It took a moment for Keith’s eyes to flicker over Shiro’s entire body, almost frowning by the time he was done. “You’re the guest here. You don’t have to do that.”

“What?”

“Pay me compliments.”

Lance looked up at Shiro from where he was stationed at Keith’s side, and smiled sheepishly, elbowing Keith. “Sorry, he can get cranky on morning shoots.”

“Shiro, come over here and let me fix you up,” Allura called, and Lance shooed him off with a gesture Keith seemed to find comical.

 _He’s something, isn’t he?_ Shiro thought he heard Keith say to Lance as he walked off, but couldn’t quite be sure over the sound of Pidge testing out songs for a playlist.

“Alright, let’s get you on the motorcycle first.”

Allura passed him off to Lance again – Keith was in his peripheral, on the outskirts of the set, talking to Pidge – and he helped him over the motorcycle, comically huge with jet black finishing, studded with chrome.

Lance smiled as the lighting shifted onto Shiro, nodding. “You look great, dude.”

Moments later, there was faint music playing from Pidge’s speakers – something with a beat Shiro didn’t know if his pulse could keep up with. It seemed mostly due to Keith’s influence, especially as they fist-bumped after the choice of song.

Shiro shifted forward slightly in the seat before Lance _tsked_ at him, pulling him back into place by the bicep. “You’re our star, dude,” He said, and Shiro resisted the urge to ask for water. “You gotta stay in the light.”

The lights themselves had blinded him; he dazedly watched Keith draw up to the set like a tiger – all legs; gait a strong saunter.

Shiro didn’t even realize Allura had come up behind him, fixing the folds of his shirt, until she turned around to look Keith up and down before he got in position, swinging his legs over the bike with a practiced grace, but not sitting down.

She huffed.

“Keith,” Allura said, holding out her hand almost petulantly, “gum.”

Keith didn’t hesitate to open his mouth, pressing the wad into Allura’s palm, offering her something Shiro would be forced to classify as a smile. “Enjoy.”

Allura rolled her eyes, but one of her dimples were showing.

Oddly, Shiro understood his charm.

Keith quickly shuffled backwards onto the machine, so that his spine was nestled between the wide handlebars – directly across from Shiro.

He looked too at ease. Too cool.

“It isn’t as unconfutable as it looks,” He said, misreading Shiro’s gaze.

Shiro didn’t get the chance to reply before Allura was calling orders. “Okay, Shiro, go ahead and put your arms on the handles, around Keith.”

The pose was supposed to be possessive – Shiro cornering Keith, who already had his head laid down, like he was ready to be pressed. He guessed it was routine.

Shiro felt stupid as he leaned forward, feet using the wheel caps for leverage, and crowding into Keith’s space. His head was tucked into Shiro’s chest, and he had to re-adjust for the height difference.

The cameras started snapping as soon as Shiro looked down at Keith, their eyes locking.

Shiro knew he looked panicked.

“Hey there,” Keith said, lips barely moving. Around them, they could still sense the flashes, the rotating cameras trying to get several good shots in.

Shiro resisted the urge to move, instead licking his lips. There was camera click. “Hey.”

“You’re uncomfortable,” Keith tilted his head to the side, resting the back of his neck on the center of the handles. He looked at him from the side of his eyes, whispering like a magician. “Move closer. So I can feel your breath on my neck.”

He could see the little hairs that Hunk hadn’t dusted off of him from his earlier haircut – they stirred when Shiro blew gently on them, making Keith tense.

“Sorry.”

“No – you’re okay.”

Shiro felt his skin start to burn red with embarrassment. But Keith was still looking at him, drawing him in.

“Closer, Shiro. C’mon.”

Contrary to popular belief, Shiro didn’t have much gusto when it came to advances. But he could feel Keith’s arms flex at his sides, and Shiro hoped he wanted to reach up as much as Shiro felt the need to pull Keith on top of him.

Their eyes slid together again, and Keith’s mouth parted, silent.

 _More_. He didn’t have to say it.

Shiro craned his neck, opening his mouth to match, lips barely skimming Keith’s skin. He exhaled, picturing smoke rolling between them. Actually, he wouldn’t mind getting high with Keith. Maybe fucking around.

The feeling of Keith’s gloved hand wrapping around his left shoulder was weighted – heavier than anything Shiro could think of.

“Shiro, place your right arm on Keith’s waist so there’s no obstruction for a wide shot.” Allura’s voice was anything but shrill, but it still rang through Shiro’s ears like a piercing bell.

He needed to stop thinking during this. Or at least thinking about _Keith_.

Numbly, Shiro followed his instructions, hand wrapping around Keith’s naked waist, under his leather jacket. His knuckled skimmed the thin crop top he had on – something he wanted to see rip.

“Your hand is warm,” Keith mumbled, rolling his neck for a second.

“Keith, hook your ankles around Shiro’s shins.”

Shiro watched him roll his eyes before obeying Lance’s call, surprised by the strength Keith had coiled in him. It took a minute for Shiro to regain his balance after the hook, and Keith laughed, forcing the cameras to stop for a second.

“Sorry,” He said, and Shiro took the opportunity to stretch his shoulders after being hunched forward for a while, awkwardly leaving Keith’s pull.

“No, why don’t we move onto another pose. That one may have been too –” Allura paused, looking at Lance for a word, and after watching him shrug, finished, “– intimate to begin with.”

Keith exhaled, swinging his leg over the bike to stand, popping his knees. “Whatever works,” Keith went over to Allura’s clipboard, flipping through the lineup. He turned it back over to her, open on a new page. “Why don’t we do some standing poses for now?”

He looked ruffled; Allura and Lance both shared a look that suggested they knew Keith was off.

Still, Allura sighed, her nails clicking against the board. “I guess so. Lance, can you go get their racks?”

Lance made a face, but got up. “Do we really have to watch them change out here?”

“We’re still working on the cords. We need to see them,” Allura looked over to Shiro, who was still standing on set, watching this unfold like a movie. “Are you okay with that?”

Shiro nodded, trying not to act startled. “Whatever you need is fine.”

“Good. Roll off that bike for me, would you?”

Shiro turned back around to the prop bike – it didn’t budge easily, so he ended up lifting the entire craft, and setting it down outside of the shot.

Keith let out half a laugh before looking up at Shiro, gesturing towards the motorcycle. “That thing is over two hundred pounds,” Shiro would have thought he was impressed if not for his tone, and the flat line of his mouth. “You’re too good.”

Shiro shook his head. “Allura just asked me –”

Keith persisted. “No, really. You’re a teacher’s pet.” The sudden edge to his voice made Shiro flinch, and he turned back around to look down at him. Keith crossed his arms.

“We’re not five,” Shiro said, voice settling into a grumble. “What are you, class degenerate? Modeling toy bikes?”

Keith had the decency to flush, but scowled. “These things aren’t toys.”

Shiro mirrored Keith’s posture, flicking his head toward the front of the warehouse. “I saw your ride pull up. It’s a plaything.”

Keith took Shiro in for a moment before shrugging. “It’s my work vehicle.”

Shiro barely caught Keith’s smile, but managed a small, breathy laugh after the fact. “You’re a real mess.”

Keith grinned, and it looked _good_ on him. He gave Lance a nod as he passed that seemed to convey _He’s not so bad,_ before speaking to Shiro again. “Hey. Let’s go out for lunch.”

“Don’t they serve it here?”

Keith looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but exercised restraint for Shiro’s sake. “Yeah, but it’s all crust-less sandwiches and vegetable platters Hunk prepared.” Keith grabbed his keys off a small table before beckoning Shiro onward. “I mean, I love the guy, but I’m not on a tea party diet.”

Shiro wished he could watch Keith in motion like this forever – collecting his wallet from his draped coat, pocketing his lighter and case into the jacket he had on, waving goodbye to Hunk, who was shaking his head.

“What about our clothes?”

Keith shrugged. “Just be careful. Allura’s not one to get too upset about something like that.” He reached into his back pocket to pull out a stick of gum, folding it into his mouth. “So are you coming?”

Shiro didn’t have time to set up an argument. “Yeah, just let me get my wallet.”

As he passed Lance’s director’s chair, Shiro grabbed his white tank draped over the back of it, pausing to pull it on before he left, in the spirit of trying to preserve some semblance of public decency.

He walked outside to see Keith waiting, foot planted into the ground atop his stalled motorcycle.

Keith frowned as Shiro walked out of the door, staring squarely at his chest.

“Hold onto my back,” was all he said.

\-----

They weren’t five minutes out before Keith had pulled up into a corner gas station for him to fill up, leaving Shiro at the tank while he went inside to pay. He came out with a bag of chips under his arm – blowing hair out of his face – before spitting his gum into the receipt, and tossing it. Shiro felt his eyebrow raise before Keith could look at him.

“Hot Cheetos?”

Keith didn’t flinch.

“My favorite meal.”

He opened the bag, offering some up to Shiro, who declined. He ate a few handfuls while the gas pumped, waiting until he heard the click of its finish to lick off his hands, wiping them on his exposed stomach, carefully avoiding stains to his clothes.

Rolling the bag, he put back the nozzle back in place, and pulled out a gum packet from his back pocket.

The flavor was cinnamon cherry, and Shiro suppressed the thought of how exactly that tasted when mingled with Hot Cheetos.

Especially how it tasted on Keith.

“You good?” Keith asked, and Shiro realized he had been zoned out on the gum packet Keith was rotating in his hands.

He nodded. “Yeah. Just,” Shiro straightened his spine a little more by reflex. “This is my first job in L.A. – well, actually my first week here.”

“So we’re the natives to you,” Keith finished, weighing that for a moment before speaking, settling back into his seat. “I came here from a nowhere desert town in Arizona. Lance and Hunk are both from Florida.”

“They moved out here together?”

Keith’s gaze steadied, educated. There was something he wasn’t going to say, something that Shiro hadn’t earned yet. “They wanted a better side of the sun.”

“That’s fair.”

“And where’d you come from?”

The question seemed more cosmic than Keith intended, and they both nervously laughed.

“New York.”

Keith nodded, turning his key in the engine. “I know where we’re going.”

\-----

They ended up off-roading – in the most liberal use of the term – a couple minutes off a walking trail in a park Keith knew, stationed on a hill overlooking a portion of the city.

Technically, they weren’t allowed to bring motorized vehicles into the area, but Keith assured him no one cared too much about this leg of the woods.

It was several moments of Keith flicking through radio stations, trying to catch some song, before he turned off the bike in annoyance, leaning against the machine instead.

Shiro watched him spit out his gum, rolling it into a leaf with his foot. The wind was low and steady, cooling him over his jacket.

“It’s nice here,” Shiro offered.

“I like to nap here sometimes,” Keith admitted. “Between shoots.”

Keith reached into his jacket, fishing out another blunt. The lighter he had was bejeweled with a tacky K, and somehow he knew it was a gift from Allura. Shiro watched him light it, part of him still thinking about cinnamon and cherry and _red_.

Shiro blinked as he noticed the blunt extended to him.

“It’ll help you relax,” Keith said, to which Shiro rolled his eyes. He insisted. “Here.”

Keith brought Shiro’s hand up with his own, passing the joint between their fingers like it was his calling card.

Shiro dully watched Keith as he inhaled, smoke cloying in his throat.

“You still look tense,” Keith said, drawing his booted foot through the dirt. A clean arc appeared on the ground. “We can go get actual food if you want.”

Shiro exhaled slowly, shaking his head. He brought the blunt to his mouth once again before passing it off to Keith. “I’m fine, I swear.”

Keith just nodded, looking off the backside of the hill, where a walking trail was slowing being retaken by nature.

Their silences were improving – especially as Keith swayed gently with the direction of the breeze, and Shiro smiled down at him.

They both smoked a few more rounds before Shiro felt the steady warmth of Keith’s gaze on him again, and he looked over.

Keith was starring, this time at his prosthetic. He spoke in the same tone he had first used with him, and a part of Shiro wished they were past the formality. He thought they were, at least for a moment.

He didn’t really know why he wanted to be past it, except he’d have to pretend he wanted to lick Keith’s neck in the next couple hours in front of multiple cameras.

_Did he want to lick his neck?_

“So you stunt?”

“Yeah.” Shiro hoped he didn’t look startled.

Keith’s mouth flickered. “That’s pretty cool.”

Shiro took it as a lead. “And what you do? Go fast?”

“You bet,” Keith said, turning away to pat his bike. “That’s what this is for. Racing.”

“So is the jacket a prop, or what?” Shiro stole back the blunt seamlessly, and Keith looked up at him with an open mouth, slowly smiling at his trick.

“It’s more of a signature,” He explained, stepping closer to Shiro.

Shiro let him invade his space, merging close enough that if either of them moved their arms an inch, they’d be tangled.

They were quiet a minute, finishing the blunt closely between each other before Keith sucked the last of it, and deeming it unworthy, put it out against the bottom of his shoe.

“Does your arm hurt?”

That caught Shiro off-guard. “Yes. When it’s cold or wet,” He stuck his hands in his pockets while Keith played with the straps on his gloves, avoiding Shiro’s eyes. “And after a long day.”

Keith just nodded, lips folded. “At least you escaped with your pretty face.”

Shiro laughed lightly, shoving Keith back with one arm. He only rocked back slightly, and Shiro registered again that he was sturdier than he looked. Bringing a finger to Shiro’s nose, Keith stared at him while Shiro weakly smiled. “I don’t know about that.”

“The scar works for you,” Keith explained, stepping back into place beside Shiro, just a hands-breadth away. “At least you have something to show.”

Shiro lowered his eyes, watching Keith take his hands in his – they fit ill proportionately – but Keith turned them over slowly, digging his thumb between Shiro’s knuckles. “You didn’t walk away unscathed, either.” Keith’s eyes shifted up, but he didn’t drop Shiro’s hands. He didn’t say anything, and Shiro continued. “You don’t race anymore. I’ve seen your old videos.”

Keith sounded tired, lowering his voice. “You could have told me that.”

“Sorry,” Shiro pulled his hands out from under Keith’s, sliding them up his arms. He brushed his elbow divot, and Keith’s nose twitched. Shiro pulled Keith closer by the arms, and he followed. “I was star-struck.”

“You’re full of shit, Shirogane,” Keith said, but laid his head against Shiro’s chest.

Without giving much backing to the thought, Shiro leaned down to brush his lips over Keith’s forehead.

He could blame it on the weed – Shiro knew it was a cheap out, but he wasn’t going to do something stupid without a reason.

It was Keith who ended up moving first – his hands slid from Shiro’s stomach up to the panes of his chest, and Shiro couldn’t suppress the twitch his neck gave at the contact.

Either Keith didn’t register his nerves, or chose to ignore them, because he leaned forward, upward – standing on his toes to reach Shiro’s chin, hands playing with the wrinkles on his shirt. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Shiro said, throat dry with smoke, while tilting his head a little further down. He was really relying on whatever courage Keith had – just trying to get himself to breathe right now was enough of a challenge. 

“You feel really good,” Keith murmured, and Shiro felt his hands shake as he raised them, gently placing then on Keith’s waist again.

Keith arched into the touch, spreading his hands on Shiro’s stomach, fingers skimming beneath the hem of his shirt. His stomach tightened, and Shiro saw white as Keith slipped his arms under his shirt, pressing closer against him until their legs were hooked.

Keith’s thigh was wedged perfectly between his legs, and Shiro started counting the passing seconds just to willfully keep from fainting.

“Are you okay?” Keith asked, soft enough that Shiro wouldn’t have heard it if he exhaled at the same moment.

“I’m fine –” Shiro groaned as Keith fingers found his nipple, rubbing it gently as he spoke. “It’s just been a while, with the crash and –” He swallowed, cutting himself off as Keith rocked into him, a light moan escaping his mouth as he rested his forehead against Shiro’s chest.

“We should be careful,” Keith mused. “We have to go back for more photos.”

“Do you want to stop?” Shiro tentatively moved a hand from his hips to his hair, letting his fingers pass through the thick stands. Keith’s neck was overly warm, and he shivered at Shiro’s touch.

“No, I want this,” Keith’s words were firm, bordering annoyed. “You’re really hot, and you’re funny, and nice and –”

“How about you sit on your bike?” Shiro cautiously drew him closer, hands pressing against his back. Keith pliantly folded forward, curling into Shiro’s torso. “I’ll hold you so you keep your balance.”

They were both hard – Shiro felt Keith against his thigh as he lifted him up, and he exhaled through his nose.

“You’re big and strong,” Keith muttered, and Shiro’s face went numb as he worked off Shiro’s jangling belt. His ankles were loosely hooked around his ass, Keith’s heels pressing into his jeans. “You’ll hold me up,” He concluded, and slumped onto the seat, pulling Shiro down on top of him so that he was bent over the side of the motorcycle.

Keith’s hands were instantly tugging off Shiro’s jacket, the denim hitting the earth behind him with a small _thud_. Keith pushed up the muscle tank he had thrown on underneath, the thin fabric rolling in the front to expose his stomach.

“The scars –” Shiro started, but Keith was already biting his lip, watching himself run his fingers across Shiro’s skin.

“I could get off on this, you know,” Keith said, voice low. “Touching you.” He blinked, looking up at Shiro with soft eyes. Not the sharp ones he’d seen in the pictures – these were completely new. “You’re really something, Shirogane.”

Keith attempted pulling the shirt over Shiro’s head, but was stopped with a light grip on his arm.

“Takashi,” Shiro corrected, and blushed a second later when Keith met his eyes. A second passed, and Shiro read Keith’s understanding in his face – _Okay, not that_ – before watching him grin, teeth exposed. It was so good natured, so genuine, Shiro wanted to bat away the butterflies in his upper stomach.

“Pretty,” Keith said, reaching up to handle a fist of Shiro’s spiked hair. Shiro guessed they’d have to redo their looks for the next set, anyway, being wind-tossed and all.

Keith pulled him down by the head, craning his own to let their mouths meet, both red and soft.

Shiro didn’t expect the kiss to be so forward, so completely _open_ , but Keith was characteristically full of surprises.

His tongue parted Shiro’s mouth, hot and wet, and their lips lapsed together, pulling on each other. Shiro blinked, looking down at Keith’s eyes – shut, but fluttering, like he was in a dream.

Shiro couldn’t help but try to find a rhythm against Keith’s madness; soon they were rocking gently together, the bike creaking every so often under their weight.

They were both still hard – Shiro could hear Keith keen every time he moved his hips, grinding up into Shiro like it was the only thing he could remember how to do.

“I could blow you,” Shiro said, panting into Keith’s ear as he gasped. He didn’t know what made him say it, but he was thankful part of him had found his nerve. He needed it with Keith.

But Keith shook his head. “No – I’ll come,” He whined as Shiro tongued his earlobe, rolling one of his studs in his mouth. He sounded out of breath when he spoke. “I want you to fuck me.”

They both groaned as Keith slid their hips together perfectly, the bike tilting dangerously for a moment before Shiro balanced them out, wrapping his arms around Keith’s back.

“Okay.”

It was a moment before Keith moved, tucking his elbows into his chest to work around Shiro’s arms, reaching down to undo his own belt. Shiro felt the leather land on his feet as he heard Keith’s zipper – and suddenly Keith was moving his hand for him, curling it around his cock.

Keith’s shoulders fell back as he sighed, and Shiro slowly started to stroke him. He felt something horribly soft as Keith blinked open his eyes, starring up at Shiro.

“You have nice hands,” he said, and Shiro was mystified by the genuine inflection in his voice.

“Hand,” Shiro said softly.

Keith didn’t seem to react – only to blindly fumble for Shiro’s prosthetic, curling his hand around the wrist for stability.

“I mean it.”

There was a beat, Shiro playing idly with Keith’s head, reading down to kiss him below the ear. He was leaking precum onto Shiro’s fingers, and Shiro resisted the urge to show off – lick it off just for Keith.

_He likes your hands._

“Will you take your shirt off?”

Shiro shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Keith weighed this for a moment, spreading his open legs further around Shiro, who raised an eyebrow.

“Can I touch you again?”

Shiro tried not to smile, failing miserably at Keith’s persistence with him. “Yeah.”

They were faster this time – Keith’s hands were under his shirt, pressing him down, hard. The motorcycle’s kickstand tilted up too far, and Shiro had to weigh Keith down, pressing them flat against each other. Shiro was stroking Keith fast enough that he was spitting out curses, sometimes combing Shiro’s name with whatever expletive was handy.

Shiro was in a daze for the most part – Keith palming at his crotch, the heel of his hand driving him crazy as he furiously stroked Keith’s dick, hoping one of them would get off already.

“Aren’t you supposed to be fingering me?” Keith’s voice shook, the leather seat sticking to his sweating skin making red marks on him.

“You distracted me,” Shiro mumbled, before groaning as Keith’s nails raked down his sides. They both slowed for a moment – Shiro caught his breath, swallowing. “Do you have, uh,”

Keith nodded, face tinging on a burn. “It’s in the compartment under the seat.”

He let Shiro pick him up, grappling his thighs with one arm while he rummaged underneath Keith.

“Holy shit,” He said it with a hint of laughter, muffled into Shiro’s shoulder. “You’re fucking ripped.”

“You’re too easily impressed,” Shiro murmured, closing the seat lid and setting Keith back down. He kept his legs wrapped firmly around Shiro’s ass, and he snorted, tossing the condom in his lap. “Hold this. You have to let me open you up.”

Grinning, Keith slowly untangled his legs and pulling Shiro back in for a kiss. He spoke against his lips, and Shiro tasted the cinnamon cherry on his tongue, over the Hot Cheetos; hidden under smoke. “I know. It’s nice hearing you say it, though.”

They both held their breaths as Shiro popped the cold cap of the lube, pouring enough onto his fingers that they dripped onto the yellow grass beneath them. He circled Keith’s hole for a moment before pressing gently, opening him up with one finger first.

It only took a few moments for Keith to start moaning, verging on begging for another finger before Shiro relented, not making him wait.

“Maybe next time we can do this in a bed,” Keith whispered, shifting his hips up so Shiro’s wrist didn’t cramp.

Shiro let that thought settle over him as he slid a third finger down to the knuckle, listening to Keith moan, mouth open. He couldn’t help but smile. “I’d like that.”

Keith hissed as Shiro pulled out his fingers, tightly wound, before pushing them back in, making him see static behind his eyes. “God, I’m gonna feel you fuck me in my _brain_.”

Shiro curled his fingers. “You’re gross.”

“You like it,” Keith said, circling Shiro’s working wrist with both his hands, trying to pump them faster. “You like me.”

He couldn’t counter Keith’s smirk, at least not in a dignified manner, so Shiro gave Keith what he wanted, thrusting his hand faster into Keith, making him buck up off the seat.

“Fuck, Takashi,” Keith’s voice was edging on haggard, and Shiro’s dick had been pressed uncomfortably numb against his zipper for too long. He spoke with a grip on Shiro’s arm that made both their skin white. “I want you _inside_ me already.”

Shiro dragged out his fingers roughly, and Keith groaned – though he propped himself up to watch Shiro unzip his jeans, pulling out his cock to quickly roll on the condom, and lining it up with Keith’s hole.

“Oh my god,” was all Keith commented, before tilting his head back off the side of the motorcycle. His dick was leaking on his bare stomach, and Shiro watched it twitch as he pressed his head against him.

He bent down to give a last kiss to Keith’s forehead before pushing in, making both of them moan, pink spreading across their faces. He felt himself swear, but he couldn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears.

“Fuck,” Shiro exhaled, trying to keep another groan from spilling out. He wished Keith would shove a fist in his mouth to bar him from cursing so much. “God, you’re _hot_.”

“Thanks,” Keith’s voice was light, but he was sweating – the front of his hair curling on his damp forehead, his stomach muscles coiled underneath Shiro’s hand.

Shiro shifted, grinding his teeth as Keith clenched around him, trying to adjust.

“Are you okay?” Shiro managed to push out the words, and Keith nodded as he wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck, pulling him down into a sloppy kiss.

“You feel good,” Keith breathed, rolling his hips slowly. Shiro let out an ungodly noise, consciously biting down on his lip to stop it. Keith smiled weakly, pulling Shiro’s face to the side, so he could whisper in his ear. “You can bite _me_ instead, if you want. I’d like it.”

The confession was blunt on Keith’s flushed face as Shiro drew back, his cock warm and pulsing inside of him.

He hardly need more instigation than that look – Shiro tongued at Keith’s neck, pressing the flat of his tongue against a tendon, feeling Keith react with attempting to fuck himself against Shiro’s waist, burying his cock deeper inside with an agonizing sloth.

Still, Shiro pulled back, breathing heavily. He pumped into Keith hard, mostly to see his reaction – a whimper Shiro would dream about. “I can’t mark you up. We have photos.”

“I’ll get Hunk to do the cover makeup,” Keith hissed, voice collapsing as Shiro slowly drew out of him, just to offer shallow thrusts while he thought about it.

It didn’t take long for Shiro to decide – not with Keith clawing at his back hard enough to leave hot streaks.

If they were going to have to cover _those_ up, might as well make his neck match.

Letting his teeth scrape against Keith’s skin, Shiro scooped him into his arms, pushing Keith down by the waist, forcing him off and back onto his dick in a frantic pace. Keith was barely holding himself up anymore – only a single shaking leg was propped against the bike’s footrest, forcing Shiro to tighten his hold on him.

He knew if joggers were to pass and see them, there’d be no mistaking what was happening – but they were so intertwined, so close, Shiro doubted they’d even be able to see that Keith’s pants were pushed halfway down his thighs, and that Shiro’s precum was smeared between his legs.

He loved it.

“You worried we’re gonna get caught?”

Shiro’s heartbeat stuttered for a second as Keith reached down to grab his balls, fingers overly warm in contrast to his leather gloves. It was funny how he knew him like that – so soon, too.

Shaking his head, Shiro tipped Keith way back, making it harder for Keith to control their movements. He needed to finish, and for once, he was selfish about it.

“I’m worried if you don’t be quiet, someone’ll call the fucking cops,” Shiro muttered, and Keith tried to push at his chest, but Shiro easily forced him back down with a grip on his waist. He offered a sick grin, and Shiro couldn’t help but smile back.

“I bet you’d like that.”

Shiro listened to him moan before replying, his thrusting more erratic. “How’d you know?”

“I think I know a lot about you.”

Despite himself, Shiro laughed, feeing the sweat start to gather at his neckline. “Yeah?”

Keith looked wrecked – his hair was dripping at the ends, and his noises were less stifled the faster Shiro fucked into him, losing rhythm to blind pleasure.

“I don’t want this to end,” Keith said suddenly, followed by what sounded like a curse, and Shiro’s gut twisted into a knot, and he wanted to come _now_.

“ _Keith_ ,” Shiro managed to clench his jaw before he groaned, coming in a hot rush with Keith shoved down on his cock.

“Fuck, fuck,” Keith began chanting, hands tight in Shiro’s hair. “Shiro –”

His nose was buried into Keith’s neck, trying to breath him in. He still smelled like red cinnamon, and those damn Hot Cheetos. Rubbing easy circles in Keith’s shoulder with one hand, Shiro reached down to stroke his dick with the other, thumbing over his head like it was a well-worn pattern. Like it was second nature.

So was his voice, sickly sweet in Keith’s hairline.

“I got you, buddy.”

Keith came with a sound that made Shiro pull him closer – but he tilted him wrongly, and he ended up splattering cum over half the seat of his bike – making Shiro laugh tiredly into Keith’s chest, hand wet and curled.

“Oh fuck you,” Keith breathed, once he saw the mess, letting his head lazily drop over the side of the vehicle.

They cleaned up minutes later with a partially greasy maintenance rag they had found in Keith’s seat, surprisingly, with minimal gripping from either of them.

Shiro had offered to wipe down Keith _and_ his bike, but had been waved off. 

“I can’t believe you made me come all over my favorite bike,” Keith said, shaking his head before smiling. “You’re a heathen, Shirogane.”

“You tasted like Hot Cheetos, shut up.” Shiro said, burying his head into Keith’s upper back. He felt the ripple of laughter through Keith’s jacket. He played with the zipper a second before dragging his knuckles along Keith’s chin, enjoying his pulse spiking. “You know, you were being such a brat at first, I thought you had decided to hate me.”

Keith snorted, laying his head back into Shiro’s hands. “I thought you were straight, and trying to get on my good side with flirting. I hated that.”

His hair was softer than it looked, even messy. Shiro ran his hands through it before answering. “And all I really wanted to do was _blow_ you – how dare you –” 

He didn’t get the chance to finish before Keith was on him, forcing a hand over his mouth. Shiro had no qualms about sticking his tongue out to lick his palm, which made Keith’s nose scrunch in disgust, frantically wiping his wet hand off on Shiro’s pants.

They didn’t check their watches, but went ahead and decided to get dressed at the same time.

“I want fries,” Keith said as Shiro slid his hands around his waist, swinging his leg over the bike yet again.

Fries were Shiro’s luxury food item, if not routine treat. He adjusted the collar of his jean jacket before replying. “Yeah, me too.”

It felt good to be on the same page.

\-----

By the time they had gotten back, Lance and Allura were still perched over Pidge’s shoulder, and Hunk was aimlessly going between sets, readjusting lights by a fragment of a millimeter.

“Hey, guys,” Keith said, loud enough that it resonated halfway across the warehouse. Pidge raised a hand without looking up from the screen, and Allura managed a strained smile over her obviously brewing headache.

“How was lunch?” She asked, while pointing at a scale on the screen. Pidge immediately moved the slider down, making the picture mere degrees darker.

“Fine,” Keith said, shrugging off his jacket, and hooking it around the back of Pidge’s chair. “I’m going to brush my teeth.”

“Gee, thanks for sparing us,” Lance muttered, before double tapping against a gradient on the editing program, nudging Pidge. “Try that.”

Shiro stood still for a moment, not knowing what to do until being acknowledged. Thankfully, Keith turned back at him, and silently motioned for him to follow.

Hunk watched them from across the room, shaking his head as he saw Keith take Shiro’s wrist, turning the corner into the dressing rooms.

He’d let everyone find out for themselves.

**Author's Note:**

> wow its been a minute. sorry for publishing this without editing i'm just [generic excuse]
> 
> also season 5 in two days!!! i can't wait to take a midterm the same day! yikes
> 
> tumblr: paladinlion


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